Work Text:
“Hey,” you say to the back of the computer chair, claimed by one particular lanky bastard who’s busying himself at his computer. You’re standing a few paces behind it, just able to see Sollux’s horns peeking past the back. “Take a break and hang out with me.”
Sollux grunts, clearly unimpressed with your timing. “I just started this, and it’s been like eight minutes. Go find something else to do.”
You walk around to stand to his left, where you can see the screen. “I’m sure you can put this off for later, though.”
“Let me work.” He’s not wearing the best mood he could be, you note.
You adjust your stance in a way that one might call haughtily. Fine. If Sollux is going to be stubborn like that, you can stoop to a lower level. You’re already shorter than him, it’s not like it’s hard.
You stalk off, and only come back to the room once you have a weighty book in your possession— it has a worn hardcover, made of cloth and paperboard. It even looks embossed due to the care put into the cover design. You carry it in under your arm, then pull it out to hold up with one hand. If Sollux was watching, he might notice that you carefully open the book to a random page with the air of a wizard putting consideration into the incantation he casts. He is not watching, even in the slightest, so your shred of dignity is intact. Magic is still stupid, anyways.
You clear your throat softly, near the back of your throat. A calm ‘khm-khm-hm’ that catches Sollux’s attention by the twitch of his ear.
“Oh no,” he says to his screen.
“Vrosok Ciolak, deemed as The Silencer, was an indigo lieutenant upon the Dirigible Typhoon in the Priortou era,” you read off, getting comfortable on the nearby couch. You can hear the desk chair creak as Sollux leans back, palming his eyes miserably. “His title is said to be derived from his need to be able to control sounds around him; he was known for getting especially irate over unpredictable noise.”
“In his planetary life, Vrosok maintained an extensive library full of anatomy books. He had studies published on the study of vocal chords, the effects of music on trolls, and the general research on soundwaves. He carried a large collection of different scientific models of throats on display, the amount of which frankly unsettled The Studyist as she worked on this volume of Historical Encyclopedias for the Trolls of Comings Ages. Thank you, Kisela, your personalized note in this info chart will really make this book seem professional.” That’s the third note you’ve seen from the joint authors of this book. “Vrosok had spent sweeps of his planetary life focused on revolutionizing the use of supersonic sound. This is what caught the eye of Her Imperatorial Materialist, Rohnie Reyhin, and got Vrosok onto the Dirigible. Vrosok is known best for his loyalty to Her Imperatorial Materialist, disposing of the first five fuchsia-bloods that had failed to usurp her. He was assassinated by the sixth, who falsely suspected that cheating was at play.”
Sollux is slouched down in his chair, arms held out to frustratedly chicken peck at his code in silence.
“Now, personally,” you add in as a side comment, “I think it’s interestin' to point out that they don’t add proof if the cheatin’ accusations were false. But I guess it’s not unexpected. The Priortouan trolls were very good at propaganda and coverin’ tracks, since they needed it after a couple full eras of peace. It makes sense that these somewhat competent scholar-types of the past wouldn’t be able to clarify the full picture from a time like that. Little sloppy, is all.”
“Sure. Really fucking neat.” Sollux’s sarcasm doesn’t fails to disappoint.
“I think so too, very rivetin’ stuff.” You find it funny sounding genuine in turn; it probably riles him up more thinking the disinterest flew over your head. You take a sip of water from a stray bottle you’d set aside for yourself earlier in the night. “Vrosok was not on record of associating with other trolls often. All trolls identified during planetary life that meaningfully interacted with him were various volunteers to help test his audial research— all of them one-time or two-time encounters. The only recorded troll to associate with him in the long term was Kralon Drilos, a title-lacking cerulean who insisted on being called a cobalt-blooded troll. It is suspected by sparingly preserved notes by the old crew that Vrosok and Kralon may have waxed flippantly for each other, with Vrosok seen swapping from silently irritable to silently yearning for weeks at a time, and Kralon ever-presently acting uniquely cheeky in Vrosok’s presence. Vrosok did not ever interact with another troll as frequently once Kralon was killed on a war mission expanding the Priortou Empire. The last known comment Vrosok ever made about Kralon was, quote, ‘Goodbye to The Cobalted,’ in an old journal he failed to fill completely.”
The sulking pile of a troll in the room with you decides he needs to get a terribly long sigh in before you continue. He may actually be listening, or he may not be. The social life trivia is sad to read, regardless of if he was focused on the words.
“While Vrosok was efficient in creating tools for Her Imperatorial Materialist, creating several in his lifetime, no remaining knowledge surrounding ‘Creations of The Silencer’ have been found. Asepia Peixes, Her Attentive Admiration, ordered for all records of Vrosok’s work to be destroyed once she usurped Reyhin, bringing in the era of Beforus. Her Attentive Admiration was then usurped in the resigning ceremony by the heiress, Mimema Tethis, who shot Asepia in the chest. Mimema, now self-donned as Her Monarchial Ludicrousity, set immediate plans to have Vrosok’s work unearthed in any capacity. Once she was unable to find anything, Her Monarchial Ludicrousity simply took over the Beforan era as a final fuck you to—”
Your well-worn copy of Historical Encyclopedias for the Trolls of Comings Ages, Volume 4 is lifted from your hands with wisps of electricity.
“Can you stop reading me garbage about stupid historical figures and pointless empire conflicts? I’m trying to fucking work,” Sollux complains with a snarl, tilting his head halfway towards you with his hands idled over the keyboard. Ah, he’s stopped for a moment. Bingo.
“Pay a little attention to me, then I’ll leave you be.”
He pushes up his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You do realize I’ve only been working fifteen minutes now, right?”
You get up off the couch to meander back over to him. “Not my fault you started somethin’ while you should be givin’ me some acknowledgement.”
He glares at you, with a little petulant frown that you find funny on his face. Finally, finally, he bemoans for a single moment before getting up, standing in front of you.
One hand goes to your side while the other cups your cheek. You have to hold back from grinning into the way he leans down and catches your lips with his own, far too gentle for the irritation that’s likely humming persistently in his mind. Four seconds, and he’s leaning back again.
“Is that enough of an acknowledgement for you?”
You quickly lean into his space to steal an additional peck on the lips. “Yep.”
“Thank fuck,” he mutters as he retreats back to his chair. You return to the couch in turn, smug in your little victory.
You get cozy in your spot from before, and find your book has been set nicely beside it. You pick it back up to find your page and read silently about known historical figures of various importance for the rest of the time that Sollux codes. You’ll bug him again later, when you think he’ll need to talk through his code to get all the errors fixed.